Rejoicings for the Victory—Sufferings of Cole’s Division—Complaints
of the French—Statements of a French Prisoner—Decay of
Spain—Characteristics of Wellington—His Opinion of Bonaparte—Prospects
of a renewal of the Attack—Exchange of Prisoners—Wellington’s Spanish
Estate—His opinion of Picton—Disposition of the Army.
Head-quarters, Lezaca,
August 7, 1813.
MY DEAR M——,
Here we are still, quiet, and _in statu quo ante_ our last run to
Pamplona. I have sent you a long account of all this business with the
Prince of Orange’s despatches.
Our cavalry have been moving up, both to St. Estevan, and towards
Irun. From the former place, however, for want of forage they begin to
retire again. Much are left still round Pamplona, where there is only
a Spanish infantry force to watch and invest. They have tried in vain
to burn the corn just under the walls of the town, for this partly
supplies the garrison. Marshal Beresford is gone for a week to the
sea side, for bathing; I conclude, therefore, that nothing is to be
immediately undertaken to turn the French out of the remaining hills
near this place. I should like to have them clear out in the plains
below, for I expect in about three weeks to have them plaguing us
again. Something is still in agitation for this purpose, but for the
present delayed. We fired, at St. Sebastian, a salute of twenty-one
guns for our late victory. The garrison regularly returned two for
every gun fired. They are very well supplied, it is said, and are
very impudent. I fear that all our former breaches will now be quite
useless, as they are, probably, before this, made the strongest points.
Saragossa, or Zaragoza (the fort) has surrendered to Mina with about
forty guns, and, it is said, nearly five hundred men; this will be
good, if Suchet intends to come that way towards us. I think he is now
retreating a little, and perhaps this late business may make him go
back quicker.
Lord Wellington was on his bed yesterday, and could scarcely rise from
the lumbago; but was in good humour and good spirits. His position
near Sorauren and Oricain, or Orquin, was a near-run thing (this was
where the last two battles were fought). General Cole was there with
the fourth division. In the course of his retreat, Lord Wellington
was falling back on him with his staff, saw the importance of the
position and galloped over the bridge, and up to General Cole, to
form his division, and take up the position at first sight. Pamplona
must otherwise have been relieved. The French were so close upon Lord
Wellington, that a part of his staff rather behind could not follow him
over the bridge, but were cut off by the French, and obliged to find
their way round. This position was afterwards strengthened by the third
(Picton’s) division, and the Spaniards, and this at least saved the
communication with Pamplona. I hope we should in any case have beaten
the French at last, but it must have been further back certainly, and
probably on the Tolosa road. General Cole’s division has had, on the
whole, nearly nine days’ constant fighting and marching. It is terribly
cut up in consequence.
The French vow vengeance against the Spaniards. An officer, prisoner
here, told me yesterday, that the Spaniards had always complained
of the French, and often with reason; but if they came again as he
expected, the French were resolved to show them the difference, and
let them have some reason to complain of them in earnest. He said, that
France had lost nearly four hundred thousand men in Spain, in the war,
and much more than half from sickness and unfair means, assassination,
and treachery. He said there was not a family in France which had not
put on mourning for this Spanish war, and yet scarcely any of the
Spaniards had fought them like men. He said the notion the French had
was that in the general peace which was expected, England and France
would make arrangements to divide the best part of Spain between them,
and that we should keep Cadiz, Carthagena, and all the useful maritime
parts, and leave them to the Ebro. He smiled much at my disowning any
such honest and honourable intentions on our part. He told me that the
French armies had suffered more in their _morale_ here in the last
campaign, than by their Russian losses, for every Frenchman laid the
latter disasters entirely to climate, and was satisfied he still could
conquer a Russian as formerly; but here, the troops were fairly beaten,
and in general would not stand. Only two brigades, he said, behaved
really well at Vittoria, and Jourdan was sent to Paris under arrest for
his conduct. As to the money, baggage, &c., they behaved much better on
the 18th of July.
He also told me that not even an English or Spanish officer, in the
best of times, had ever been so well treated as the French were when
they first came here. He appeared not at all to feel how much worse
this made their conduct appear since. This was drawn out by my telling
him that Bonaparte had contrived now to make the French detested,
almost by every nation in Europe, and that power was all he had to rely
upon. The part Bernadotte had taken the French officers seem not to
have known, so much are they kept in the dark about every thing. The
Frenchman also said, that had it not been for the jealousies of the
Guerillas, they might, by acting in concert (which they never would
do), have sometimes almost annihilated whole French divisions, and that
the French could scarcely have kept their ground some time since; but
by local and individual jealousies the finest opportunities were lost.
He considered that the good or bad behaviour of an army all depended
on their having pay and food; or, on the contrary, the want of both;
and I believe so much: that he rightly considered that the French
discipline was the best when they had both, but that not being here
ever the case, plunder was the consequence. “But why come here at all?”
quoth I. “_L’Empereur le veut_,” was the answer, “and we as soldiers
have only to obey.” “Try and enter France,” said he, “and you will soon
see how the people feel, and whether your stories of a readiness to
revolt, and dissatisfaction are true. So far from it, that there has
been considerable zeal shown every where in replacing the Emperor’s
Russian losses.” The French think there must be war, and therefore
the further from home the better. We have heard before you, by French
papers, of the extension of the armistice in the North. This is bad for
the campaign here.
The English reviewers and others may say what they please as to Spain
not having been on the decline during the last century. It has at
least stood still when almost every other country in Europe made rapid
advances in everything. In Spain and Portugal, no town is now, or has
been lately, on the increase; but several have manifestly diminished.
The decay of houses is seldom made good, even on the same ground, by
new ones; I do not recollect to have observed, in the whole country,
four new houses building, notwithstanding the thousands destroyed of
late; nor does this seem owing to the events of the last five years and
the present times, for you see no houses commenced before that time,
and left unfinished, at least extremely few. In France, almost every
large place had its new town as in England, only in a less degree,
and evident marks of new buildings, &c., stopped by the Revolution.
In Spain there are no appearances of new towns at all, nor of parts
of towns, or scarcely even of houses, or unfinished buildings stopped
by the present confusion—some in Vittoria, from French excitement I
believe, but nothing to speak of. The churches are every where on a
large and expensive scale; a few modern, but in general they are old.
The Spanish towns have nearly all the appearance of what we should take
to be decayed manufacturing towns. The inhabitants appear to have been
asleep as to the rest of the world, and not to have made any progress
whilst others made great advances. This is a sort of decline. There
can have been little demand for manufactures, for the same few chairs
and tables seem to have been in use these fifty or hundred years.
Whitewashing and new placing the tiles seem the only repairs of the
houses.
Yet, I think many districts seem to have been uncommonly happy and
comfortable before this war—large tight houses, abundance of food, good
clothes, cleanly habits, a general equality of rank; no rich among them
at all; no very poor; and no manufactures. Almost every man could make
what he wanted for his farm, and a shoemaker, a tailor, and a farrier,
were nearly the only tradesmen, except farmers, in work. Occasional
pedlars supplied the other wants of a people who had but few. Such
must have been the independent, happy state of many large districts
away from the influence of the corruptions of the large towns, where
all the idle, lazy, pauper nobility lived: they were alike free from
the effects of the misgovernment and oppressive conduct of their
rulers. Other districts certainly were very different, and more like
the dirty and ill-provided Portuguese. In Portugal, the higher classes
seem, I think, to have been generally better off, and to have enjoyed
themselves more in their quintas, or villas, and the poor to have been
worse off. There are none of the districts in Portugal such as I have
described in Spain.
I have just met General Cole, who commanded the fourth division; he is
quite knocked up. He says that his division alone have one hundred and
four officers killed and wounded.
_Lezaca, 8th August._—Yesterday I rode up to the hill at the point
of our position above Bera, from whence you see Bayonne. I stood on
the top until it was nearly dark, and returned down the mountains by
moonlight. The French fires were very numerous, and were burning all
over the sides of a tremendous hill, which they still occupy opposite
to our position. I passed the boundary stone, and got half-a-mile
into France, to the highest summit of the rock, where the outlying
picket is. I saw the French relieve their pickets, heard their drums
as plainly as ours, saw the men at work at a redoubt to oppose us if
we should advance, and, lastly, saw five thousand Spaniards come up to
occupy the ground in the place of our light division, &c., who were
ordered to go elsewhere. These were O’Donnell’s regiments; they were
thin in numbers. A brigade, nominally three thousand, mustered eighteen
hundred, but were well-dressed and good-looking men. I only hope they
will fight—at least that they do not steal as adroitly as Longa’s
people. We have had the latter near this place, and nothing is safe at
all from their fingers—from a horse or mule down to a bit of biscuit.
In my letter from Vittoria, I told you that the French as an army
had escaped, and that we should hear of them again in a month. So it
proved; and so I think it will be probably again, unless the two places
surrender to us in a few weeks.
This small, dirty place, Lezaca, is a curious scene of bustle just
now; crowded with Spanish fugitives—the head-quarters no small body,
with all our stragglers and those of Longa’s, who are more numerous
(he having a quarter here now, and looking like an English butcher in
a handsome hussar dress), with abundance of Spanish and Portuguese
officers (for both troops are near), as well as with English, with
wounded and prisoners passing, with mules and muleteers innumerable,
besides all the country people who come here to turn all they have
got into money. Noises of all sorts; thrashing all going on in the
rooms up stairs; the corn then made into bread and sold in one corner;
“_aguardente_” being cried all about; lemonade (that is, dirty water
and dark-brown sugar) the same; here a large pig being killed in the
street, with its usual music on such occasions; another near it with
a straw fire singeing it, and then a number of women cutting up and
selling pieces of other pigs killed a few hours before. Suttlers and
natives with their Don Quixote wineskins all about, large pigskins,
and small ditto, and middling ditto, all pouring out wine to our
half-boozy, weary soldiers; bad apples and pears, gourds for soup, sour
plums, &c., all offered for sale at the same moment. Perpetual quarrels
take place about payment for these things between the soldiers of the
three allied nations and the avaricious and unreasonable civilian
natives; mostly, however, between Spaniards and Spaniards. The animals
eating green Indian corn almost against every house here and in the
churchyard, which contains four tents, from the want of stables and of
quarters. Not the least curious or noisy in this confusion, are about
fifteen men and women with fresh butter 4_s._ the pound, who are come
from near St. Andero and beyond it—a stout race dressed in a curious,
peculiar manner, who contrive to bring butter on their heads in baskets
for above a fortnight together, and sell it at last in a state that I
am very glad to eat it for breakfast for ten days after it arrives. It
forms a sort of very mild cream cheese, in fact.
_Head-Quarters, Lezaca, August 9th._—You ask me if Lord Wellington has
recollected —— with regard? He seems to have had a great opinion of
him, but scarcely has ever mentioned him to me. In truth, I think Lord
Wellington has an active, busy mind, always looking to the future, and
is so used to lose a useful man, that as soon as gone he seldom thinks
more of him. He would be always, no doubt, ready to serve any one who
had been about him, or the friend of a deceased friend, but he seems
not to think much about you when once out of the way. He has too much
of everything and everybody always in his way, to think much of the
absent. He said the other day, that he had great advantages now over
every other General. He could do what others dare not attempt; and he
got the confidence of all the three allied powers, so that what he
said or ordered was, right or wrong, always thought right. “And it is
the same,” said he, “with the troops. When I come myself, the soldiers
think what they have to do the most important, since I am there, and
that all will depend on their exertions. Of course, these are increased
in proportion, and they will do for me what perhaps no one else can
make them do.” He said, “he had several of the advantages possessed by
Bonaparte, in regard to his freedom of action and power of risking,
without being constantly called to account: Bonaparte was quite free
from all inquiry, and that he himself was in fact very much so. The
other advantages which Bonaparte possessed, and of which he made so
much use,” Lord Wellington said, “was his full latitude of lying;
_that_, if so disposed,” he said, “he could not do.”
You ask about my health—I think this hole in the mountains unwholesome:
the place is so full, and without drainage; the air heavy and
oppressive; it is like Devonshire, warm moisture constantly. I long to
be on the mountains, to get air and braced up. It has rained nearly all
the last twenty-four hours.
_August 10th._—I have just seen Lord Wellington, about some more than
usually important business: he is better, but not well. He has given me
an immense bundle of English and Spanish papers to peruse and examine.
The enclosed plan may help you a little to understand the _Gazette_,
and my letter; remember it is only my hasty personal sketch in pen and
ink, on no scale, and taken from no regular document.
_11th, Post-day._—I worked very hard all yesterday, and could not
get through Lord Wellington’s papers. I am still at work at the last
part of them: a Spanish narrative of all the Spanish operations of
a Spanish army for a month, by their General Copons. It consists of
sixty-four sides of foolscap in a Spanish hand. There is nothing new.
Lord Wellington will give a dinner to-morrow, in honour of the Prince
Regent’s birthday, to all the heads of departments, to which I am
invited. There are reports of the French moving already, but I believe
all lies as yet. Do not be too sanguine about Suchet. He may retire,
but will hardly be forced out of the country, for there are forty
thousand French on that side of Spain. The Spanish Government have
given Lord Wellington a handsome royal estate near Granada; he told me
this yesterday.
_Head-Quarters, Lezaca, August 13th, 1813._—Here I am, and very busy
still, and with no events to communicate. All is now quiet for the
present, as at Frenada, though this cannot last long. Having the paper
by me, however, I determined to place this letter upon the stocks,
against the next post-day.
Yesterday I dined at Lord Wellington’s, with a party of thirty-six,
to keep the Prince Regent’s birthday. Eight mules had arrived in the
morning with prog and wines from Bilboa, and we had therefore a good
feast, and some very good claret of Majoribanks and Paxton. The party
was very dull, though many grandees were present—Castanos, O’Donnell,
the General of the army of the reserve (the best Spaniards I have seen,
and now on the hill above us, with something like a Commissariat, &c.),
their aides-de-camp, &c., Generals Cole, Anson, Murray, Pakenham,
&c. Two bands were in attendance those of the Fusiliers and the 7th.
Fuento, the Spanish Commissary, gave us “God save the King,” and Lord
Wellington’s favourite, “Ah Marmont, onde va Marmont?” but it was very
hot and stupid; every one here, in fact, is fagged, and half done up.
Lord Wellington could scarcely rise when he sat down, or sit down when
he rose, from lumbago, and was in great pain, but is much better; all
around him looked pale and worn. I think, however, we shall be up to
another brush again soon.
We are soon about to begin again at St. Sebastian; but it is to be
feared that it will be hard and bloody work, unless some piece of good
luck should arise in our favour.
_Later._—I have just been to Lord Wellington, with the result of my
labours, which have amused him much, and which he thinks I cannot be
correct in, as to facts; or if so, the whole, he concurs with me, is
most extraordinary. He has now got the papers and my statement to
examine. It is not, in my opinion, the Spanish General who was to
blame; I must not explain more at present; he seemed pleased, and asked
me to dinner again to-day. We have a stray paper to the 4th, which
has set us all agog; but I have only heard the news concerning Lord
Aberdeen, and it does not seem quite certain that there is to be an
ambassador from England to the Congress. The French nation, or rather
the news through France, is I hear all for peace, and the Rhine and the
Pyrenees are to be the boundaries, Jerome King of Holland, and Joseph
King of Italy; this is only French rumour.
I am told that Soult says he will be here the day after to-morrow, the
15th, and has two bridges ready near Irun, to come on our left; he
would only come there, for I think we should be able to do something.
We are well up for an attack there; four hours would put the divisions
here on that flank, Spaniards, &c.
_The 14th._—We had last night a little firing, but I believe it was
only the Spaniards. The latter and the French fire at each other
at every opportunity, and when neighbours, are never at peace. Our
sentries and the French, on the contrary, are within one hundred yards
of each other, and are relieved regularly without the least molestation
on either side. This is the way. Unless an attack is to be made, what
is gained by killing a poor sentry? Our new brigade is not yet at
Passages, although expected for this fortnight. Some reinforcements
have, however, come up, and the brigade of Guards, which were left
behind, have, by easy marches from Oporto, now joined us—about fifteen
hundred out of the three thousand who came out at that unlucky time
last year. The French have also reinforcements, and must in honour
do something if the two places hold out. The French gentleman who
came over to us near Pamplona fourteen days since, dined at Lord
Wellington’s yesterday, and talked away. He seems clever, and, like
every Frenchman, professed to know everything—the secret history of
everybody and of every event. He calls Bonaparte _un tigre_, &c. I
cannot say that I like him much, and would not trust him; but I am not
much afraid of Lord Wellington doing so. Lord Wellington told him the
following fact, concerning the exchange of prisoners in this country.
He said that Massena once agreed to exchange three hussar officers and
one hundred and twenty men, rank for rank, and when he had got his
own three officers and the men, sent back only twenty soldiers, and
the rest countrymen and Portuguese militiamen, and three officers of
militia scarcely embodied. Lord Wellington vowed never to trust his
honour again, and in every proposal always excepts Massena. Indeed
he said he was so little inclined now from experience to trust any
of them, that a short time since, when an exchange was proposed, he
said, “Yes; but first name the officers and men you offer, and their
regiments, ages, &c., and then I will treat, but I will not have
Spanish peasants for French soldiers.” To this they sent no answer.
Lord Wellington also tells them, that until our travellers, civilians,
&c., who were detained are released, he can never listen to
non-combatant pleas. All must be exchanged; but he is very liberal. He
also said Soult once complained that six of our officers had escaped
from their guard near Oporto, on that retreat, and had committed a
breach of honour; but that he (Lord Wellington) having inquired into
it, found they were placed in confinement under a guard, and their
parole not relied upon, and that they had got the better of their
guard. Lord Wellington, therefore, told the Marshal that the parole
being abandoned by the imprisonment, the point of honour was gone; and
that there were two ways of prisoners and their guards separating, and
that he believed the guard had run away from their prisoners, not the
prisoners from their guard. To this also he had no answer.
Lord Wellington also talked of Grant’s case, who lately got away from
Paris. Lord Wellington had advised him not to give his parole in Spain,
and had provided persons to rescue him in several places on the march
to France. They offered this to Grant in consequence, but the offer
was from honour declined, as the parole had been given and acted upon.
The moment he was in France the French placed him under a guard, and
at Bayonne he got away from them and went to Paris, remained there
nine months, and got to England at last. Lord Wellington yesterday
was excessively stiff and sore, but in high spirits. He seems to have
a notion that the Continent will make a peace, and leave us and the
Spaniards in the lurch, and I believe this prevents any very forward
movements here on his part, for the French would then soon come down
upon us with decidedly superior numbers; and if we had quite passed
these mountains a hasty retreat back through them would not be a very
easy or agreeable manœuvre.
I rode last night to Bera or Vera, where our outposts are in the
valley. The French pickets are in two houses on the hills opposite, a
few hundred yards up. Several of the houses about there are destroyed,
gutted, and burnt, and most of them deserted. It was only a month ago a
pretty little town. Longa had also, since we were here last, burnt two
neat farms on the road, and knocked off the parapet of the bridge, and
dug a trench across it, for the purpose of annoying the French. We have
headed nearly all the green Indian corn in this valley for the horses;
it is cut short off, half way, leaving the fruit below; and this is
said not to do much harm to the corn. But then we cannot eat our cake
and have it also. There will be no dry forage for the animals in autumn
and winter. The little wheat straw about these valleys is nearly all
eaten already, and much of the wheat and Indian corn itself has been
either destroyed or taken by the irregularity of the thousand muleteers
around us, in spite of their being occasionally flogged when caught in
doing so. The inhabitants will, I fear, be half starved in the winter,
unless they migrate, which many will, no doubt, and we must be supplied
from other parts if we stay near here. Spain in general will, however,
have been released from the supply of, nominally, two hundred thousand
French; and as we drove them away before harvest time, most of this
will be in the market somewhere, except what has been destroyed on
our immediate line of march. Much has been of course trodden down, and
from the want of forage and corn our horses have been obliged to take
the ripe wheat and eat it—straw, grain, and all—to serve both purposes.
This is dangerous food, and if drink is given carelessly, often kills
the animal; but otherwise it answers well.
We understand here that it was not until three days after the news of
the battle of Vittoria arrived that any one durst inform Bonaparte of
it. This last battle will very probably be almost entirely concealed
from him. As we are now both _in statu quo_ as to place, this may
perhaps be managed: though the enemy are about fifteen thousand
men minus to what they were before the attack at Maya began. From
intercepted letters we find that, in reports even to each other, the
French lie considerably, or at least misrepresent, for the good of the
service, and this will present a good opportunity, as Bonaparte is so
far off.
In this little town, or rather village, there are about twelve priests
at least, walking about in their shovel hats. These hats would astonish
the most orthodox bishop’s chaplain in England, and our coalheaver’s
hat is nothing to them. The only fine cloth in the shops here is black,
you may guess for whose use.
The estate which the Spanish Government has given to the Marquis of
Wellington is, I understand, a very desirable one; and the best proof
that it is so, is that it was one which the Prince of Peace had given
to himself, and doubtless he chose the best he could find. It is
nominally thirty thousand dollars a-year, a castle, I understand, and
about a league from Granada, in a fine country.[5] Lord Wellington
seems very much pleased with it. He says that he hopes the house is a
good one, as he should not like to have to build, and that he hears
there is hunting, coursing, fishing, and everything near it. There
was a fine wood, but I fear the Prince of Peace cut most of that
down. General O’Lalor, who is in a bad state of health, is to have
the government of Granada, and will superintend this estate for Lord
Wellington. The latter had got the papers concerning it before him when
I called a few days since, and said, “This relates to the estate they
have given me.”
_The 15th._—I have been very ill all night and this morning, but am
now rather better, and the doctor tells me I am saved a fever by this
bilious attack. We are all most anxious for news from the North, for
all must depend in the end upon that, at least in a great measure.
Next to General Frost, I think, our General has done the most for the
common cause. General Villa Alba, the Spanish Inspector of Cavalry,
dined at head-quarters to-day. He is a queer-looking creature, anything
but a General in appearance, and much less a cavalry officer. I know,
however, nothing of his real character. We now feel the effects of our
work through these valleys; for we cannot ride a few miles without the
alternate smells of dead horses, dead mules, and dead men. Bonaparte’s
birthday has passed over very quietly, except a tremendous triple salvo
of all the St. Sebastian’s guns and mortars upon our poor fellows in
the trenches at daylight. The garrison are amazingly pert, from their
success hitherto; but we have some hopes they will soon want water.
Adieu.
_The 16th._—Much the same to-day, the attack continuing all night.
Cannot think what it is in this country that affects us. The
thermometer has never in the shade, in my room, been beyond 72° in this
part of Spain. General Sir T. Picton is attacked again with a violent
bowel complaint, and is fallen to the rear. He would be a great loss,
for he is one of the best here. Lord Wellington, the other day, said,
“Why, even General Picton did so-and-so the other day,” as if surprised
that he should not have acted quite right.
Our soldiers are quite unaccountable; all is going on right, and they
are just now quiet and well fed, yet desertion, and even of British,
to the enemy, was scarcely ever more frequent. It was not surprising
that one hundred and forty of the Chasseurs Britanniques went off when
we were falling back to Pamplona, and, as they thought, probably to
Portugal; but that the English soldier should desert, is astonishing
and unaccountable. Three went off from pickets together the other
night, towards the French, and were all caught, and are to be tried.
Several must be hung for this. Two new regiments have at last arrived.
I wish the French would come fairly on now, if at all, but every one
talks of a general peace. Adieu.
_The 17th._—We have this day a strong French report that peace is
signed, and that the Pyrenees are to be the boundary of France on this
side. Nothing said about England; but even at this rate, we must be off
if this prove true. The news you told me of the fifty thousand men,
under Soult, you will have seen was tolerably correct; it was intended
he should have been here sooner, to prevent the mischief which happened
at Vittoria. As soon as the report came that we were threatening to
cross the Ebro he was sent off, but he did not allow sufficiently
for Lord Wellington’s rapid movements, and was a little too late. It
is clear, from many circumstances, as Lord Wellington says, that he
intended to drive us back to the Ebro this last push, and that his
measures were all taken accordingly; his cavalry, which he brought with
him, and which, as regards the country as far as Pamplona, would have
been useless, has suffered much from the roads, want of shoes, &c., and
had no employment except that of carrying off the wounded.
Our army is now nearly as follows: first and fifth divisions, Oyarzun
and St. Sebastian, under Graham; Jeron, with his Spaniards of Gallicia,
in their front at Irun; Longa between them and this place, with his
diminished Guerillas; here the fourth division and the light division
in front, and the Spaniards of O’Donnell the reserve next, on the right
of the others, in front; then the seventh division above Echalar, &c.:
then the third and sixth in Maya and Roncesvalles Pass, with Spaniards
I believe also, and General Hill’s second division behind them in
the valley of Bastan, Elisondo, &c.; six thousand Spaniards watching
Pamplona, and our cavalry about there principally or in the rear of
Graham.
_The 18th, still Lezaca._—O’Donnell is unwell, from the wound in his
leg, from which thirty splinters have been extracted: he is going to
the baths. He is the Conde de Bispal, commanding the army of Reserve.
Jeron is to take his command now, and give up the Gallicians; our men,
however, I am glad to learn, are in general considered as very healthy:
General Cole told me that his division was particularly so, after all
their fatigues. The army have Lord Wellington to thank principally,
even for this. Last year the mules per company allowed by Government
were employed in carrying the heavy iron camp-kettles, and our men had
no tents; though they were allowed them, they could not be carried.
This year Lord Wellington had light tin kettles made, one for every
six men, for the mess, to be carried by one of the men, each having a
small cooking machine of tin besides. This plan sets the mules free and
disposable, and thus three tents have been carried for every company,
and allowing for absentees, guards, officers’ servants, sentries, &c.;
this now nearly houses or covers all our men, and contributes much to
the health of the army. It was entirely an arrangement of his own.
The Portuguese are still without tents, as are the French and the
Spaniards.
The French, however, are very expert at making wood huts, with fern
for the top and for the bedding, tolerably comfortable except in heavy
rains. So are now the Portuguese indeed, and many of them (as well as
our men who happen not to have tent room) join two together, and giving
up their blankets for sleeping on, make a good tent of them, which
holds two very well, and only consists of their two muskets and two
blankets; and now, since we have obtained so much plunder, generally
a good sack or piece of carpet at the rough weather side. Orders were
given before we marched from Granada, by Lord Wellington, to have all
blankets looped and strengthened at the corners, for this purpose, all
ready, as an excellent defence from the sun, even better than a tent,
for it is cooler, and a very tolerable one from rain.
I am to dine with General Cole, who is quartered here. My people in
this house are up all night, making a noise, and baking for Longa, and
all day the children are shaking the dirt from above down upon me.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] It is situated in the Val de Soto.